The Viking's Touch. Joanna Fulford

Thrand.

      ‘There’s always hope, eh?’

      It elicited a laugh from the rest. Then they turned their attention back to the task in hand. As he worked, Wulfgar let his mind return to that recent encounter. He had learned early to read men and Ingvar presented no difficulty, nor did his ambitions with regard to Anwyn. A woman alone was exposed, especially one who was wealthy and beautiful. It was none of his business, of course. In a day or two he and his men would be on their way. All the same, he had no intention of being hurried towards departure, by Ingvar or anyone else.

      Anwyn paced the floor of the bower, her face pale with anger as she recounted to Jodis the details of Lord Ingvar’s visit.

      ‘Insufferable man! Who does he think he is?’

      ‘He grows more confident, my lady.’

      ‘He has no right to be confident of me. Drakensburgh is mine now, and I will say who is welcome here and who is not.’

      ‘Perhaps it is as well our visitors do not stay long,’ said Jodis. ‘All the same, I fear their departure.’

      Anwyn sighed and sank down on to a chair. ‘So do I.’

      She did not want to think about what might happen when their restraining presence was gone. Lord Wulfgar’s face drifted into her mind. He, too, unsettled her, but the feelings his company gave rise to could not have been more different. She had known him only a day, but she knew she would never forget him. In that moment she envied him: how would it be to board a ship and sail away from Drakensburgh and never come back? How often she had dreamed of it in times past. Torstein would never so much as permit her to speak with a stranger, never mind go near a ship.

      Once she had been naïve enough to think she might escape, to summon the courage to ask for a divorce. It was not uncommon and nor was it a difficult process to arrange. A woman might part from her husband and take her children with her, along with the goods and dowry she had brought to the marriage. That was the usual way of things. However, it hadn’t taken her long to realise that her husband would never agree to such a proceeding. The only other alternative would have been to run away but, even had it been practicable, Torstein would have hunted her to the ends of the earth and then exacted a dire retribution.

      Perhaps he guessed her thought for escape had been well-nigh impossible. Her freedom was limited to the confines of the pale. On the rare occasions that she was permitted to travel beyond, it was always in his presence and with an armed escort. Though they looked their fill, his men did not address her unless it was absolutely necessary and then only in the briefest and most respectful of terms. It was more than their lives were worth to do other. For the rest, human contact was limited to the women servants. She was, effectively, a prisoner. Anwyn sighed. In many ways she still was. Had it not been for Ina, life would have been much more difficult.

      Their friendship had been formed in her first winter at Drakensburgh when he had fallen ill with the ague. By dint of careful nursing and the right medicine he had recovered well. It was a kindness he had not forgotten. In the days immediately following Torstein’s death he had been an invaluable aide in helping to establish her authority among the men. Ina had made it quite clear that she had his full support and their respect for him compelled them to listen. Whatever doubts they might have entertained, they did not voice them aloud. However, she was in a precarious position and she knew it. Common sense dictated that the sensible course was to remarry, but to wed a man like Ingvar would be to leap from the cooking pot into the fire.

      Revisiting that embarrassing encounter just now, she wondered what Lord Wulfgar had thought. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Ingvar’s possessive anger had been thinly veiled. That in turn roused her own, as though she were somehow wrong-footed. Having reached peaceful agreement with the visiting force, it was infuriating to have her decision questioned like that, and by one who had no right to pronounce on the matter. Now she felt a need to put things straight again. Leaving Eyvind with Jodis, she left the bower and made for the workshop. She had no idea of what she was going to say when she got there, only knew that some form of words were necessary.

      The sound of sawing and hammering drowned out her footsteps and for a little while he was unaware of her presence but, on turning to retrieve an adze, looked up and saw her there. His men exchanged knowing glances. Wulfgar paused, his face impassive. Had it been any other woman he might also have wondered at her motive for seeking him out again and, had the case stood as it so often had in the past, he would have followed up the invitation. What red-blooded man would not? However, she was as unlike those others as strong mead was to water. There was nothing remotely flirtatious in her manner; she made no attempt to attract or beguile. Moreover, she seemed to have no idea how successful a stratagem that was, unless of course she played a deeper game. Either way it was intriguing. Leaving his companions, he crossed the workshop to meet her. ‘My lady?’

      ‘I must speak with you, my lord.’ She hesitated. ‘Privately.’ He inclined his head in acquiescence. ‘As you wish.’ When they had walked sufficiently far to be out of earshot she turned to face him. He surveyed her speculatively, waiting, his curiosity thoroughly roused.

      Anwyn drew a deep breath. ‘I wanted to apologise for what happened earlier.’

      ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ ‘Ingvar should not have spoken as he did.’ ‘Seemingly he misread the situation.’

      ‘I believe he did.’

      Wulfgar eyed her coolly. ‘There is an understanding between the two of you?’

      ‘No, nothing like that. At least not on my part.’

      ‘Certainly on his, I would say.’

      ‘That is as may be, but I have given him no reason for encouragement.’

      Wulfgar raised an eyebrow. ‘Then he takes much upon himself.’

      ‘You saw what happened in the bay.’

      ‘Why do you tell me these things?’

      ‘In truth I don’t know, except that I didn’t want you to think …’

      ‘What?’ he pursued.

      ‘That Ingvar spoke with any tacit support from me.’

      ‘I am honoured by your confidence, my lady, but I don’t quite see how all this concerns me.’

      A rosy flush crept into her cheeks. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to involve you in my affairs. I merely wished to … to explain.’

      He regarded her steadily for a moment. ‘You know, of course, that a man like Ingvar will not give up easily?’

      ‘Yes, I know.’

      ‘A widow’s life must be lonely. He is strong and could protect you. Perhaps you should consider his offer.’

      ‘Lonely or not, I will never give Ingvar a husband’s authority over me.’

      The words, spoken with quiet vehemence, elicited a quizzical look. ‘Do you object so strongly to a husband’s authority, then?’

      ‘I would object to any authority that is based on tyranny. Ingvar is of that kind, and I will never put myself or my son in his power. Nor will I have the people here subjected to the tender mercies of Grymar and his men.’

      ‘I can understand why you might not wish to. However, such men tend to take what they want.’

      ‘He will not take Drakensburgh. I have already given him my reply and I stand by it.’

      Wulfgar met her eye and held it. ‘When it comes to the crunch, words have no power. Only swords and superior numbers will stop men like Ingvar.’

      Anwyn pondered over that conversation later and privately acknowledged the truth of it. That led to other, more worrying thoughts. After her husband’s death some of the men had chosen to move on. Their departure left roughly thirty; not enough to stop Ingvar if he decided on the use of strength to achieve his aim. It seemed she was not alone in the thought.